Chapter Text
"If only one of us can get out of here, it needs to be you. You may not be as fast as me, but you've got a hell of a lot more endurance."
She's free.
Lucy staggers away from the woman's body, tripping over her own feet and falling on her ass. Her muscles lock in fear, but her captor's shuddering breath appears to be her last.
She can't believe her plan actually worked— but she needs to go now. The others will be on alert when their colleague doesn't check in; they'll all race over and find the woman's corpse laying on the ground in Lucy's cell with a shard of ceramic sticking out of her neck, and they'll know what Lucy has done.
She's free.
The hallways are damp and dark, but there is a light. Lucy follows the light and finds an unlocked door—she can't believe her luck—and sobs as she takes in her first breath of fresh air in weeks.
She runs.
The terrain isn't level and the incline, while not too terribly sharp, is difficult. The wind is blowing into her face, but onward she goes.
Gunshots sound out from somewhere behind, but her rookie training is second nature by now and she dodges each bullet.
Something in Lucy's ankle snaps and everything in her wants to fall down and curl around herself, but she's not even a quarter of the way there yet. She must keep running.
Awful, animalistic sounds escape her.
Help will be on the other side. She crests the hill and— and no one is there, but that's okay. Help will be over the next one.
Rocks and sticks and other sharp things litter the path she makes for herself, slicing up her feet.
Help will be over the next one.